Earnest And Simple
by The Bard's Daughter
Summary: What do you give the one you love when nothing seems good enough?


**A/N:** _Here's a little one-shot in honor of Valentine's Day. I hope you all enjoy!_

__**Disclaimer:**_ All characters are owned by JK Rowling and Scholastic. I merely take them out to play on occasion. I own nothing but my degree!_

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><p><em>Balloons?<em>

Preposterous. Too flashy. Too juvenile. Too prone to being popped in the presence of certain skittish staff members by overzealous students and a certain former headmaster who'd discovered a way to transform random bits of paint and canvas into pin-like protrusions. Last year's inflatables resulted in Sibyl predicting the minor cataclysms were mere precursors to the impending implosion of the universe entire.

No. Balloons would never do.

_Chocolates?_

Perhaps. But Honeydukes would be overcrowded and overpriced this late in the game. And between lessons and other duties, there simply wasn't time to brew a batch of the favored confections consisting of the right mixture of caramel and Belgium's finest.

No chocolates either.

_A lacy red and white card charmed to spew forth turtledoves and cherubs when opened_?

Only if continued good health was no longer a priority.

Strike card off the list.

_Jewelry?_

Overrated when the most precious kind already adorned the left hand's third finger. Had taken up residence there nearly two and a half years ago and hadn't left since. Except when certain situations required its removal for safety's sake...thus the addition of a beaded white gold chain much like those worn by members of the muggle military to the daily wardrobe.

Line through that choice.

_Alcohol?_

Inappropriate

_Amortentia?_

Completely unnecessary. Always had been. Always would be. Thank Aphrodite.

_A quiet evening in? Just the two of them_.

At Hogwarts? On Valentine's Day? That was as probable as Minerva donning a serpent head at the next Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match. With too many alcoves and hundreds of amorous students, they'd spend half the night trying to flush out the numerous Romeos and their chosen Juliets.

Add that to the Not Bloody Likely list.

_Roses?_

Too nontraditional

_A book of sonnets?_

Only if read aloud in rich, quiet tones in front of a low burning fire. And it would be the giver and not the recipient who would reap the benefits of such a token of affection.

Nearing wit's end, the parchment bearing the possibilities was crushed into a ball and unceremoniously tossed into the fire. Drat and bother. Surely there was something in the world. Something earnest and simple to depict the earnest, simply love offered, received and returned tenfold in every breath the two of them drew. But what?

They'd agreed early on to resort to something House oriented only if both Houses could be incorporated. Thus the crimson duvet and silver sheets on their bed. The lion and serpent bookends purposely mismatched on their library's shelves. Besides, there was nothing remotely romantic about an emerald green sweatshirt with 'I love a Gryffindor' emblazoned in two inch gold letters across the back. Not to mention such a perceived youthful bit of attire would never be worn.

Perhaps it would be best to forgo this traditional day devoted to hearts and flowers. Being liberally dosed with romance as often as feasible given work schedules made the day rather superfluous anyway. Not that said mate's penchant for private displays rivaling anything imagined by Elizabeth Barrett Browning or Jane Austen would ever be disclosed to even the closest of their friends. There was, after all, a reputation to be upheld.

Yet should the day truly be ignored? It was an anniversary of sorts. A date near and dear to them both. Some token of -

The first chime of the morning tripped the racing thoughts. Panic surged just ahead of the rising bile. With a full afternoon schedule, the decision and purchase needed to be made before lunch. There was precious little time left to...

The answer slammed home hard as churning feet propelled toward the lavatory down the hall. Disbelief swirled. Surely the Fates hadn't decided to intervene favorably on something as insignificant as what to give one's sweetheart. Not with whole continents' futures hanging in the balance or some world leader's life at stake. Still, if they had, there wouldn't be words enough to express the gratitude.

Doubt along with breakfast disappeared in the swishing foam of the toilet's flush. Cool water from the tap was splashed on the pale but radiant face beaming in the mirror. Perhaps there was a perfect present despite its absence from the earlier list.

~.~.~.~.~

Hermione pressed the pink tissue paper package into her husband's palm. It had taken several tries to perfect the charm. To make the resulting reveal as earth shatteringly grand as the contents deserved. Her inner competitor needed to at least match if not best his delightful surprise delivered during the afternoon break. Of course forty-five glorious minutes filled with his gentle, velvety baritone caressing her ears with favorite love poems in the dimly lit and well-warded sanctuary of the closed library would be hard to beat.

She held her breath as his long, elegant fingers peeled away the thin layers of pink. Refused to blink as the charmed litmus paper came into view. Swallowed tears as the blue line lifted from the confirmation Poppy gave only hours before, splitting then twirling and twisting into the tiny green bib proclaiming 'Daddy's Little Potions Master' stitched in gold threads across its center. Allowed a small sob to escape when the first tears dropped from the dark lashes beneath obsidian eyes as surprise, uncertainty and hope ignited a glorious fireworks display in the inky depths.

"Does this mean..."

A wobbly smile managed to form on her lips as she nodded. He pulled her into his arms, his shoulders shaking in rhythm to hers. Finally, she gained enough control to whisper into his ear. "Happy Valentine's Day, Severus."

4


End file.
